User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-3135907-20160131070425/@comment-3135907-20160728030126

Seeing his partner's sudden flight, the rat fighting Feffle turned as though to follow suit, muttering, "Eh?"

Like a succulent fruit ripe from the tree, fur and skin peeled back to reveal bright flesh and yellowed bone as the cutlass made contact with the tree-rat's skull. He screamed uselessly as blood trickled down his forehead and right temple, obscuring his vision. The throbbing pain was a beating drum.

The rat fell on his knees, gurgling and begging, as if his assailant could somehow spare him the death that was already dealt.

"By Jove, how's that f' good ol' Salamandastron cookin', y' liddle villain?" Feffle pulled a face at the rat, then buried the Long Patrol dagger in his neck. "Er... nightie-night, old boy. Oh, haha, I say! That was really somethin'. Hem, any more o' th' benighted scum about?"